Silver Flame, Mirror Flower
by Sariniste
Summary: A series of Aizen x Orihime one-shots. Multiple themes and situations, canon and AU, light and dark, various ratings. Summaries within each chapter with more specific information.
1. The Summoning

**1.**

**Title: The Summoning**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: **An alternate version of events in Orihime's life during the timeskip. When a mysterious summons arrives for her in the middle of the night, will she obey it? And where will it lead her to? AiHime, set one year after chapter 423.

**A/N:** I decided to create a single place to hold various AiHime one-shots. This first piece came bursting out of the darkness and wouldn't let go of my brain. I wrote it in 2011. AiHime, set in the world of the living during the timeskip. May not conform to post-timeskip canon.

**Warnings:** None.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**Posting Date:** 8/11/11

XxXxXxX

The summons came in the middle of the night.

The vibration at the base of her skull, the tingling of familiar, powerful reiatsu…

Orihime's eyes flew open in the darkness of her apartment. Since the defeat of the Arrancar army over a year ago and Ichigo's loss of shinigami powers, everything had been relatively quiet in the world of the living. Few hollows had troubled Karakura Town in the past year.

Ichigo had become sullen and uncommunicative, often refusing to speak to his nakama. He rarely spoke to his father these days, either. Orihime's few attempts to reach out to him had been rebuffed.

The shinigami had been avoiding Karakura Town as well. Orihime hadn't heard from Rukia, Renji, Rangiku, or anyone during the past year. It had bothered her at first, but then she had decided to move on with her life. If they wanted to come back, they would.

But now… what did this strange call mean? She sensed a reiatsu she thought she would never sense again. Should she get up and follow the unspoken summons? The message was quite clear. Or should she fight it?

She hesitated only a minute. Then, her heart pounding, she rose and swiftly threw on a blouse and skirt, wrapped herself in her coat.

Then she went out to the living room and, following the strange inner instructions, performed a series of gestures with her hands and opened her senses.

A garganta activated in her living room. The golden tear in space blossomed before her. She took a step forward, then another… Passing through the dimensional rift had become commonplace for her, but she could still feel the twisting of time and space as her physical body passed through the gate, the odd feeling of lightness in the pit of her stomach.

Then she was through. She was standing on a silent beach at sunset. Or was it sunset? The huge, red, swollen sun hung at the horizon before her, so dim she could stare straight at it, pitted with deep red craters and oddly-shaped black marks. It seemed to pulse, slowly, as she watched. The rest of the sky was an unrelieved black without a feature – no clouds, no moon, no stars.

In front of her, over the sands tinted a dull red, stretched a boardwalk, curving slowly off to her right until it went behind a cliff. To her left was an absolutely still body of water, black as night. She could not tell if it was a lake or an ocean, but she could not see the further shore.

She began walking. The air was sour and dry; there was no wind, but it was cold, so cold she wrapped the coat more tightly around herself and shoved her hands into the pockets.

She wondered whether she was in a real place, transported to a far planet by some powerful magic, or if it was all an illusion. She placed one foot ahead of the other mechanically.

She wondered, "Why am I doing this?"

She had a normal, peaceful life as a high school student in Karakura Town. She could have chosen to ignore the summons. The messagehad said she was free to choose. She could have simply ignored it.

Why had her heart had pounded with excitement and not just dread when she felt the summons?

The boardwalk began to curve and she followed its path. Her feet made almost no sound on the oddly yielding surface beneath her. Slowly, she raised her eyes to the building that had come into view as she passed beyond the cliff edge.

It was a castle, built of an odd silvery stone, tinged red by the bloody light of the sun. She moved forward. The portcullis was open, and she passed through.

Inside, all was deathly silent. She was in a high-ceilinged hall, and the call was clear. She began walking over the thickly woven rugs straight head, down the hall. Her footsteps were muffled by the heavy carpet, and there was no other sound. The building smelled old, as though it had been standing for centuries, but the scent was not unpleasant. The heavy stone walls were hung with huge and intricate tapestries depicting mythical creatures and legends that seemed almost familiar. At the far end of the hall, a wide and elegant stone staircase curved to the left. Elaborate gargoyles adorned the stone bannisters and topped the newel posts.

She began to ascend the stairs. At the top, she turned left again, walking down a narrower hall, now with many identical oaken doors opening to either side. Brocaded wallpaper covered the walls, and wall sconces lit the hall dimly every few meters. A faint scent of jasmine permeated the air, although there were no windows.

At the very end of the hall was a set of double doors. She knew that the one who had summoned her was behind those doors. She continued walking forward as though in a dream. Her hand touched the carved brass doorknob; then she turned it and pushed the door open.

The room beyond was lit only by a crackling fire in a huge stone fireplace; the air was warm and redolent of sandalwood. Seated in a high-backed armchair sat a man in black robes and brown hair swept back from his face except for one curl. He was reading a book, but when she entered he raised his head and gazed straight at her. His dark eyes seemed to bore right through her.

She approached and stood before him, unspeaking, as the force of the summons gradually died away. His eyes traveled over her face and body, and a faint, satisfied smile curved his lips.

"Welcome, Orihime." She could not help but shudder at the sound of his deep, resonant voice. He was thinner than when she had last seen him in Las Noches; black suited him and made him appear more elegant but also paler. It threw his fine features into high relief and emphasized the beauty of his immense, dark, liquid eyes.

"Aizen-sama," she whispered.

He rested his chin in his hand and smiled warmly at her. "You must be wondering why I called you here," he said, an open, kindly expression suffusing his features.

"Is this real, or is it a dream?" she asked. "I thought you were in Soul Society's prison."

His smile darkened. "It is as real as you wish it to be, Orihime. And as for Soul Society…" He made a dismissive gesture. "Let us just say that there has never been a prison built that can hold me."

She took a deep breath. "So why did you call me?" she asked.

"Have you forgotten that I told you I would need your powers?" He placed the book on an end table without looking at it and leaned forward to fix her with his dark eyes. "You have the abilities of a god, Orihime. I find it distressing that you have been allowing your powers to atrophy, that you have been pretending to be nothing more than an ordinary high school student." His eyes narrowed. "Merely because Kurosaki has lost his powers is no reason to ignore your own."

"I—" she began, and then faltered. Gathering her strength, she began again. "I have been practicing. I've been developing new skills. I've been preparing to fight, should I need to defend Kurosaki-kun or my other friends." She stopped. "I didn't think we'd need to face you again."

He smiled again. "I am not the enemy, Orihime. You should have realized this by now."

Anger flared in her middle. "What do you mean?" she cried. "You told me you were going to destroy Karakura Town. You said you would kill one hundred thousand souls in my hometown simply to create the King's Key, just to further your own ambitions."

"Come, Orihime, I wouldn't have expected you to fall for that rather transparent deception." He shifted in the chair. "It was all a ruse. It was a trick to get Yamamoto to build the replica of your town and shift the real Karakura Town to Soul Society."

"But why?"

Aizen leaned back in the chair and lidded his eyes. "I shouldn't need to mention the obvious tactic of distracting the enemy with meaningless busywork." His voice became serious. "The primary reason is that there is a vast and ancient power in Karakura Town. There is a reason your hometown has such a high concentration of spiritual power and souls with the ability to sense spirit pressure. There is a reason Urahara Kisuke made his base there, why Kurosaki Isshin chose to exile himself there with his renegade wife, why the Hougyoku was created there." His tone lightened, his face showing faint amusement as she stared at him, puzzled and confused. "Why all of you developed extraordinary powers, and why the last of the Quincy chose to locate there as well." He paused and studied her face. "You see, the city itself is a source of unimaginable power. Karakura Town, you see, has a soul."

She stared at him and the silence stretched between them for a moment. Finally she found her voice. "What do you mean?" she whispered.

"Orihime, you must surely have felt it." He placed both hands on the armrests of his chair and his voice took on the tenor of a professor lecturing. "You know all objects have souls, and certain souls are more powerful than others. Similarly, features of the earth, whether natural or constructed, such as cities, mountains, or bodies of water, possess souls. Karakura Town has always had an unusually powerful confluence of energies, and thus a highly powerful soul. You are an intelligent woman; you must have noticed how unusual your hometown is. Perhaps you might now guess why would I want Karakura Town moved to Soul Society? Can you imagine why I would arrange for that at the same time I arranged for Ichimaru Gin, Urahara Kisuke, and Kurosaki Ichigo, three of the most powerful shinigami ever born, to attempt to kill me?" He smiled again.

"I still don't understand," she said, shaking her head.

"Ah, you see," he continued, "to create the King's Key, it was never necessary to kill one hundred thousand humans. But by leading Soul Society to believe that was my goal, I maneuvered them into attacking me. By having powerful shinigami attack me, the Hougyoku was finally fully awakened and able to transition to a higher state of existence, making me immortal and able to handle the transcendental levels of power that I will need to achieve my goals." His smile showed the tips of his white teeth.

"You see, the soul of Karakura Town itself has the power of one hundred thousand human souls. By moving the city itself, along with its soul and source of power, to Soul Society, with its high concentration of spirit particles, a vortex of vast and overwhelming power was generated. And, as it happens," he paused again and she saw his smirk widen, "I had discovered, many years ago, a book of ancient lore which even Yamamoto was unfamiliar with, that revealed to me that if such a city-soul were brought to Soul Society, that the apex of the vortex of power would lie at a point quite close to the bottom of Soul Society's ancient prison, Avici."

He eyed her from under half-closed lids, triumph in his quiet voice. She stood mute, her mind whirling, trying to make sense of all the new information.

"I have been working toward this goal for a hundred years. At the end, I needed proximity to the vortex and a quiet place to work. That was all. Thus, I allowed myself to be sentenced and 'imprisoned.'" One corner of his mouth curled upward. "Once in my cell, I was able to create the King's Key and use it to transport myself wherever I wished. You see, the Key has more abilities than merely being able to enter the Royal Realm. It is actually a key between dimensions and can open portals between an infinite number of universes." He made a languid gesture with one hand. "With it in my possession, I can travel between worlds at my leisure, raise armies wherever I go, and send them to attack anywhere I wish." His eyes darkened. "Why do you think there has been no response from Soul Society to your calls? They are quite occupied battling a new and fearsome army."

Orihime drew back, her fear for her shinigami friends taking her by the throat. "So you're still trying to overthrow the Spirit King? Why are you doing this?" she cried.

"Why, Orihime?" He gazed at her, his expression unreadable. "Have you not noticed that the world is not the way it should be? Your own world is filled with suffering, poverty, hatred, and warfare. Soul Society is corrupt and unjust. The Hollows suffer from the moment they come into existence." His eyes sharpened and she could see something burning in their depths. "The worlds are the way they are because the so-called Spirit King is an empty shell devoid of compassion or heart. A thing without a soul. And the worlds, our worlds, reflect the nature of the being that holds then together."

Orihime's chest heaved as her mind spun, trying to take all this in. Was Aizen telling the truth? And if so, why was he telling her all this? Why had he summoned her?

"And where do I fit in?"

"You, Orihime?" His smile was dark again. "Every key needs a keyhole, you know. The power of the Hougyoku and the King's Key are not enough to overthrow the Spirit King. And even if they were, upon removing the lynchpin that holds our worlds together, those worlds would all collapse. I have never had the desire to destroy our worlds. You need not worry for your friends. I have rarely killed shinigami, preferring to merely incapacitate them. I only wish to restructure Soul Society and the rest of our corrupt and unjust worlds. I would create a new lynchpin to hold the new worlds in place.

"And to create that lynchpin… I need your abilities, Orihime."

"And why do you think I would ever help you?" She was angry now.

He smiled again, and reached out to take her hand in his, stroking it. For some reason, she could not pull away. His fingers were warm and sent tingles up her arm and through her body. She looked into his eyes, unable to look away. "Because I want to make you Queen of the three worlds, Orihime," he whispered. "Two souls must join in a physical union to create the new lynchpin. I want you to help me make the worlds the way they should be."

~END~


	2. Two Truths and A Lie

**2.**

**Title: Two Truths and A Lie**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: **What happens when Orihime encounters two Aizens? An alternate version of chapter 249 in the manga, based upon a crack idea by **Flare-Flare** in the AiHime fanclub on Bleach Asylum (see illustration below).

**A/N:** See illustration here: bleachasylum dotcom/showthread. php?178-*The-Gods-of-Bleach*-Aizen-x-Orihime-FC-V-6&p=170689&viewfull=1#post170689 (remove the spaces and change "dot" to "." for the link).

And this story now has a fanart by the talented **Avalami**: i144. photobucket dotcom /albums/r192/Avalamia/Aihime/AH-sketchv2_zpsecae38a9. png

**Warnings:** Suggestive content but well within FFnet's guidelines. Uncensored version to be posted elsewhere.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**Posting Date:** 3/23/14

XxXxXxX

He stepped closer to her, trapping her eyes with his own. She could hear the rustling of his robes, the soft footfalls on the white marble flagstones; breathe in his scent as he towered over her. "Your ability," he murmured, "it is an incredible power. And I need that power. You will use your power for me, won't you, Orihime?"

She stared, eyes wide, unable to move as his reiatsu swirled and flowed around her. She was cold; so very cold in this vast room that fairly shook with the energy the Hougyoku had just unleashed. She could sense that he was doing something with the cold blue energy of the gem, weaving it around her somehow, but the intricacies of his manipulations were beyond her perception.

She swallowed. She needed to say something, anything. She did not want to help him with his violent and destructive plans. The scene she had witnessed in the throne room below, a man murdered before her eyes, had been bad enough.

"I –" she began and then her throat closed up.

He tilted his head and reached out one hand to delicately stroke her cheek. She could not help a sharp intake of breath at the intense tingling sensation that accompanied his touch. A small smile curved the corners of his lips.

"My dear Orihime," he began and his voice was silky and so very reasonable. "I understand why you might distrust me. But surely you can see that the longer this war continues, the more bloodshed there will be. The more quickly I ascend to heaven, the fewer will die. And once I am on the throne, I will bring peace to all the worlds." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And is that not what you desire above all else? Join me, lend your efforts to my cause, and I promise to save the lives of your friends and bring peace to all of existence."

"If –" she faltered, then took a shaky breath, trying to gather herself as her heart pounded in fear of what might happen to her friends and the entire world. This man had so much power, and he thought nothing of using it carelessly for his own selfish purposes. And yet, it still seemed that there was something he needed of her. Her powers were greater than she had imagined. She needed to play along, stall for time, gather more information. Maybe she had some leverage over him. "If I – if I agree to help you, what do you want me to do?"

His lashes shrouded his eyes for a moment. "I need your gift to repair the damage that has been done to the Hougyoku. This is the object that can bring a new golden age to all the worlds, and only your unique power can achieve that." His voice turned solicitous. "Once you have rested and restored your strength, I will ask you to return here and use your powers to reinvigorate this device. I can sense your power is depleted now, and I have no wish for you to overextend yourself." He rested a hand in the small of her back, supporting her gently. "Come. I –"

There was a sharp crack from the air behind her, and an incredible surge in the ambient reiatsu. Orihime felt her knees buckling under the onslaught.

Then she felt it. Another person was present in the room behind her.

Aizen's arm supported her automatically, pressing her against his side as he drew his sword with his other hand to face the intruder.

Then he paused, and his eyes widened momentarily before his face returned to its customary expression of pleasant calm.

He sheathed his sword, still holding Orihime with careless strength. His eyes were fixed on the person behind her. "Well. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" he asked softly.

Orihime twisted in his grasp to look over her shoulder and her jaw dropped.

The man standing behind her, garbed in white robes, hands casually in his pockets, an expression of detached amusement on his face… was identical to the man holding her.

XxXxXxX

Orihime glanced back and forth from one man to the other. Could this be an illusion? How could this second man have the same appearance, down to the identical reiatsu signature, as the Lord of Las Noches who was even now holding her firmly against his chest? And if so, who was the real Aizen?

Or were neither of them real?

The two men appeared nearly identical physically. Both had an air of relaxed confidence, but she sensed an undercurrent of surprise and slight apprehension in the one holding her. The Aizen standing before them appeared to be enjoying their consternation, although his face betrayed nothing.

"Forgive my intruding upon you so abruptly, and," his gaze lingered upon Orihime, "in such an intimate moment." He walked casually across the room and seated himself in the high-backed chair. He sighed and stretched unhurriedly, crossing his legs and resting his chin upon the knuckles of one hand. "My apologies. It has been a long journey and I am somewhat fatigued." The deep, measured cadence of his voice was identical to Aizen's.

Orihime glanced back at the man holding her. His eyes had narrowed fractionally and she could feel tension along the length of his body, but his expression remained undisturbed. His reiatsu had extended and was probing the other, who stayed relaxed, permitting the scan nonchalantly.

"I know you must be curious about this sudden appearance," he continued. "I will compress a rather long and complicated story into a short and concise one." He bent his gaze upon Orihime. "Although, may I suggest that we adjourn to a more comfortable chamber? The young lady appears to be rather unsteady on her feet."

"Forgive me," the smooth voice vibrated against Orihime's back. "I am remiss in my duties as a host. Let us retire to my private sitting room, and partake of some refreshment."

The second man stood up. "You have my most sincere thanks." He led the way to a barely noticeable door in a recessed alcove, placed his palm upon a plate set in the wall. A light above the plate turned from red to green and the door slid open smoothly. Orihime glanced over her shoulder at the man holding her. His eyebrows had climbed imperceptibly. Still, he followed the other man through the door, gently steering Orihime with his arm around her shoulders.

Once in the smaller, luxurious sitting room, glowing wall sconces casting mellow golden light over two long white brocade couches and a richly patterned Oriental rug, both men busied themselves with desultory talk and mundane tasks. Soon a dusty bottle of deep red wine and three crystal goblets were arrayed upon a long, low teak coffee table.

The first Aizen settled himself upon one of the couches. One arm encircled Orihime possessively.

The other man sat across the room, picked up his wine glass. "Are you satisfied that I am indeed who I appear?"

"Indeed," Aizen murmured. To Orihime, he explained, "This room contains a set of elaborate security systems that only I know the codes for. They are keyed to my personal reiatsu signature. What they tell me is that the man sitting on that couch is, for all intents and purposes, myself." He raised his eyes to the other man's. "I have disengaged the automated weapons systems that were set to destroy you at my command."

"Please accept my profound gratitude," murmured the other. "I am curious as to your speculations on my appearance."

"You surely know that I have deduced at least something of who you are," returned Aizen casually. "Or perhaps I should say _when_ you are." He leaned back against the couch and stretched out an arm. "Although I must admit that the exact quantitative value still eludes me." Orihime's eyes darted from one man to the other in puzzlement. She sensed a change in their attitudes, as though they now had a common goal. Somehow, that frightened her even more than the idea of the two powerful men at odds with each other. Could the second man be a clone of the other? she wondered. Or a long-lost twin?

The second man lowered his lashes. "Of course. I will explain shortly."

"Perhaps I should return the young lady to her chamber."

The second Aizen lifted his glass to his lips and drank briefly. His tongue darted out to lick a drop of wine off one side of his upper lip. "Oh, I don't think that will be necessary," he purred. "As you may have suspected, her presence is deeply intertwined with what I have to tell you tonight." He paused, and then lidded his eyes slightly. Orihime saw them glitter beneath his lashes in the golden light. "Besides, I have need of her in more ways than one."

The man on the couch beside her stirred and gave a low chuckle. "Ah. An intriguing idea." His fingertips caressed Orihime's throat. Confused, her heart beating rapidly, she tried to gather her legs beneath her in case she needed to stand up, but his arm pressed her more heavily into the soft couch, effectively immobilizing her. "But first, I need the details. How did you get it to work?"

The other took a folded sheaf of papers from inside his lapel and set it upon the coffee table. "Everything is described here. You will find sufficient documentation for all your purposes."

Aizen regarded the papers with deep satisfaction. "So everything is going according to plan?"

"Of course." Arrogant confidence thrummed in the other man's voice. "Surely you had no doubts on that account. What's more, everything has been orchestrated appropriately. I also went back to the Kurosaki boy's birth and made the necessary arrangements there."

"So why are you here, now? I would have thought there was no need for a direct visit. Surely everything could have been arranged in writing?"

The other man leaned his head against the back of the couch, exposing the pale skin of his long, elegant neck. His head relaxed to one side and his hair brushed his collar. The fingers of one hand splayed across his chest, then began to loosen his outfit. "I am on our planned timetable after my… setback, and I have only recently secured my release from Muken. I spent a great deal of time… alone." His eyes traveled down Orihime's body. "If you will permit me to perform a spell to share certain memories with my dear Orihime, I believe the evening will end up being… most pleasurable for all of us."

A smirk began to spread over the first Aizen's lips and his hand dipped possessively over Orihime's torso. "Is that so?" he purred. "In that case, I will allow you to proceed while I read these papers." He leaned forward, reaching for the sheaf.

Orihime stiffened, at last jolted out of her passivity by fear. "No!" she proclaimed, pulling away from the encircling arm. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not going to let you do anything to me."

Both men regarded her with tolerant amusement. "Perhaps I should explain to you. It is, after all, only polite." The second man leaned forward, locking his gaze upon Orihime's terrified eyes. "You see, I am from the future."

"You're what?" Orihime's jaw dropped. "That's crazy. It doesn't make any sense."

"I created a device that allows me to bend time to my will. That is–" He glanced sidelong at the first Aizen with a smirk. "I stole a device that had been partially constructed by Urahara Kisuke and completed it. He was too timid to accomplish the final set of experiments, and thus his machine remained a failure." His smirk broadened. "Of course, after I achieved success, I made sure to return to his lab to ensure that his machine continues to remain a failure."

Both men chuckled. Orihime shook her head. "But that's impossible. I mean, time travel, that's just science fiction. What about all the paradoxes?"

"It turns out that when you properly compute the equations for time travel, all the paradoxes cancel out," explained one of the Aizens indulgently. "Indeed, I worked long and hard to attain success."

"Now then." The first one's eyes returned to the sheaf of papers. "Perhaps you can to explain all to Orihime while I read. There is still a great deal of work to be done if I am to keep to the arranged schedule." He stood up, effortlessly pulling her with him, and the other man met him in the center of the room, taking hold of Orihime's arm and drawing her to him. Her body felt weak as he used a slight touch of his reiatsu to keep her from yanking her arm away.

"Please," he murmured, "at least do me the courtesy of listening to my explanation before you attempt to run away."

Orihime stared up at him, helpless in his grasp as he gently steered her to sit down on the other couch. "You see, my dearest Orihime, in the future, you are my wife."

XxXxXxX

"What?" gasped Orihime as she tried to stumble backwards but was restrained by the grip on her arm. "No… Aizen-sama, please…" She tried again to pull her arm away, but it was like struggling against an iron band.

"Yes." He widened his large brown eyes and bent closer to her. "As a matter of fact, I would prefer if you called me Sousuke," he murmured. She stared up at him, helplessly caught in his gaze as his face came ever closer to hers. His long eyelashes glinted in the golden light from the wall sconces. "Aizen-sama seems so unnatural to me, coming from you. And it wounds me to see you so bereft of your feelings for me, to realize that you do not know me…"

Orihime shook her head vigorously, closing her eyes and refusing to let his words into her heart. "No…what you say can't be possible. You're lying and manipulating me again," she accused.

"No," he said softly, "I beg you to listen to me. It is a very long story, but to summarize it much too briefly, in the future, the tables are turned. Instead of your being my prisoner, I am incarcerated in Soul Society's highest-security prison. You come to visit me, and over time, we strike up a friendship and then something deeper. Can you not see that you are the only person who might possibly have compassion for one such as myself?" He glanced up at the other man, poring over the sheaf of notes with a slight frown on his face, and lowered his voice. "It is something that I don't think he would understand at this stage of his life. Please forgive me if, in the hours ahead, I have to play a part where I do not properly respect you, Orihime. You must understand that we are all involved in this very deadly, very complex game right now, with nothing less than the fate of the three worlds at stake."

"I still don't understand," said Orihime. Her eyebrows lowered in suspicion. He had to be the one playing a game… and she was nothing more than the plaything.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I could transfer some of my memories of our relationship directly to your mind, and it would help you understand."

She narrowed her eyes. "No. I don't trust you."

He regarded her with a melancholy expression on his face. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped then." He raised one hand and touched her lightly in the middle of the forehead.

At his touch, it felt as though fireworks were exploding inside her mind. She reeled backwards in shock before falling into darkness.

XxXxXxX

He left the girl lying unconscious on the couch and returned to where the first Aizen was still studying his time travel notes. The man glanced up, distracted, noted that Orihime was unconscious and raised an eyebrow. "Whatever did you do to my young charge?" he inquired.

"She was somewhat resistant to my suggestion, so I put her to sleep while I modified her memories. She will wake up completely malleable to our wishes. The spell will wear off within a few hours and she will remember nothing." He lowered himself gracefully onto the couch.

The first man raised an eyebrow. "I knew she would not be so unintelligent as to fall for that lie about being your wife. Certainly she is clever enough to realize that one such as I would never marry a mere human."

The second man shrugged. "When I came in, you were insisting that you had a dire need for her incredible, godly power." He flicked a dark, amused glance at the other. "If I recall, she fell for that quite thoroughly."

"Touché," the first Aizen murmured. He leaned back and contemplated his older self. "It's true that before your arrival, I had certain… ideas for a simple, pleasurable evening while she was so conveniently at hand. But your presence here adds some… complications." He eyed the other man with fascination. "I must say, this is quite an intriguing situation."

"It is indeed."

Reluctantly breaking the gaze of the man who was the image of himself, he gestured to the papers. "But I do have some critical questions. How much time do you have here tonight?"

"Only a few hours. It should be sufficient… for everything."

"Can you first tell me then how our plan is proceeding? I know the major milestones will fall into place, but are there any minor issues I should know about?"

The second Aizen frowned. "For a while I feared that the Kurosaki boy would not gain sufficient strength to believably challenge me. I had to slow events down to an extreme extent." He gestured at the papers. "You'll see there that I even had to destroy the cleaner in the Dangai Precipice to give Isshin ample time to train his son. Even then I was not certain it would be sufficient. I meandered around Karakura Town, killing time and making empty threats to hang up corpses and such." He sighed. "It was tiresome, but not nearly as annoying as having to pretend to lose to that fool Urahara Kisuke."

"How was Muken?" Aizen inquired delicately.

"There was no difficulty. I was bound and in near physical stasis, so there was plenty of time to think."

"The physical discomforts were no problem?"

"Of course not. Kyouka Suigetsu returned to me almost immediately after her 'crumbling.'"

"Ah." A smile spread over the face of the first Aizen. "I wondered if that ruse would be successful."

"Completely," sniffed the other man scornfully. "My opponents are pathetic. Urahara is the only one who might have a chance at defying me, and even he is easily led merely by stroking his ego. 'The only man in Soul Society whose intelligence exceeds my own,'" he mocked.

Both men laughed.

The first Aizen took a sip of wine. "What about Gin? Did he make his move when we expected?"

The second man sighed and leaned back against the cushions, closing his eyes. "No. He waited far too long. For a while, I almost had hope that he would defy his nature at the end and remain loyal." He opened his eyes and an icy chill entered his voice. "He betrayed me as expected and received the punishment he deserved."

The first man swirled his wine, his eyes hooded. "As expected."

"There is a section in the notes about a particular spell you must perform before you depart for the human world. It is critical that you do so. His attack – had some unexpected qualities."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes; however, I will not tell you the details because the surprise and fear is critical for attaining transcendence. Nevertheless, that spell should give you protection during your transition."

"Ah. Now I am intrigued."

The other matched his glance. "I can say nothing more. You have all the necessary notes. For the rest, all must play out on the wheel of time. Now –" He stretched languidly, then narrowed his eyes at his double. Beneath his lashes, amusement flickered deep within his eyes. "Now, let us turn to other activities. You see… I am intrigued as well... Sousuke." He pronounced the name deliberately, holding the gaze of the first Aizen for a beat too long. Then he glanced sidelong at Orihime and a small smile touched his lips. "How do you think she would react if she woke up in bed between the two of us?"

The first man smirked. "An entertaining thought. But you must surely know her reaction. Haven't you already been through this loop in time… Sousuke?"

The second one's smile broadened. "Indeed, I do. And as a matter of fact, I have been looking forward to this little reunion for quite some time." His gaze lingered on the sleeping girl. "You will find she is delightful."

"Really? A strong word for a mere pawn and human."

A glint of lust sparked in the older Aizen's eyes. "She is more than one might expect," he murmured. He stood up in a single movement and scooped up Orihime in his arms, delicately stroking a strand of hair back from her face. She muttered wordlessly and squirmed in his hold, turning her face into his chest. He brushed his lips across the top of her head and inclined his head to the first man. "Shall we?" His eyes flicked to the door of the bedroom.

XxXxXxX

The bedroom was vast, dominated by a white-draped bed the size of an Olympic swimming pool, so tall it required a set of carved wooden steps at either side to ascend to the top. Along one wall, a huge bonfire blazed in a cavernous stone hearth, the logs spitting and crackling and shooting up sparks and towering tongues of flame twice as tall as a human. The domed ceiling soared to such heights the white carvings decorating it were lost in flickering shadows of firelight.

The two men entered, and the one carrying Orihime set her down upon an oversized high-backed white satin couch. He drew off her shoes and stockings, fingers stroking down the length of her legs and trapping one bare foot. Her long toes wriggled and she sighed in her sleep, slumping bonelessly to one side, as he traced an index finger along her arch.

The first Aizen stood watching, amused. "That human schoolgirl outfit was surely designed to be toyed with by a man," he commented.

The second Aizen ran one hand all the way up the back of her leg, under the pleated fabric of the tiny skirt, to cup the soft swell of her buttocks. "I know. Could they possibly make these skirts any shorter?" He shook his head. "I'm quite surprised she's as innocent as she is, parading all over that human town dressed like this." He tugged at her bow and loosened the buttons of her blouse. Glancing up at the first Aizen, he quirked a brow. "I'll make her more comfortable."

The first man was already undressing. "She'll be much more comfortable in the bed. Bring her," he called over his shoulder as he ascended the steps.

Shrugging, the second man removed his robes and folded them neatly on the couch. Then he bent to the sleeping girl, sliding his hands along Orihime's thighs and marveling at their smoothness before lifting her in his arms. Once at the top of the steps, he laid her down gently in the center of the bed, then drew the covers over himself as well.

He glanced at his counterpart, stretched out full length on the other side of Orihime, a snow-white sheet just barely covering his hips, the firelight flickering over his smooth skin dusted with golden brown hair, casting myriad, shifting shadows over the muscles of his torso and arms. The younger man was eyeing him with undisguised curiosity, his gaze flicking between Orihime and himself. The second Aizen returned the regard with a slight twist of his lips. "Are you ready for me to waken her?" he asked. "She will be under my spell for some hours yet."

"I can hardly wait," the first man purred. He slipped one hand under Orihime's loosened collar, tracing her skin with the tips of his fingertips, and his eyes fired with a possessive gleam. "Ever since I first laid eyes on her, and witnessed that combination of astonishing beauty and unique power, I knew I had to have her." He began to fondle her soft, soft skin and his breathing quickened. He glanced up at the second Aizen. "And of course you and I know what happens when we want something."

The other smirked. "We always get what we want," he responded with serene arrogance. He laid a hand on the sleeping girl's bare shoulder, immediately beside the first man's long fingers, his own hand sliding forward to caress Orihime's throat. Under the combined touches of the two men, she stirred slightly and a small moan escaped her lips.

Their gazes met and darkened with identical expressions of wicked pleasure.

The second man leaned forward, threaded his fingers through her thick auburn hair, drew her face to his, and tenderly kissed her on the forehead.

Her reaction was immediate. She started violently and her head whipped back and forth as she tried to take in everything around her, noting her precarious position in bed between the two powerful overlords. Her eyes locked on the second Aizen and she inhaled sharply. "Sousuke!" she demanded. "What is going on?"

"My dearest wife," he reassured her, "please do not be alarmed."

She looked down at herself and the loosened schoolgirl uniform. "What am I wearing?" She gave a wide-eyed glance over her shoulder. "And who is _he_?"

"Dear Orihime, I promise to explain everything. But please calm down. Don't you trust me?" he asked, his eyes wide and innocent.

Orihime glared at him. "In a word? No."

He looked hurt. "What if I told you he was myself?"

She clicked her tongue skeptically. "Then I would think you were lying, this was an illusion, and he was someone else, someone you didn't want me to recognize, and you were playing another of your games with me," she said tartly. "Didn't you promise you would stop playing games?"

"Did I?" replied Aizen artlessly. He caressed her cheek with one hand. "Your skin is so soft, Orihime, like cream or satin…" Attempting to draw away from his touch, she stiffened as she ended up pushing herself into the arms of the man behind her, who pressed himself against her back, burying his face in her hair. She felt his long, well-muscled body warm along the backs of her bare legs, one of his feet curling around her toes as he laughed deep in his throat.

"What is it, Orihime?" he murmured. "What could possibly be wrong with this game? It seems to me that you are quite the fortunate one to receive double the attention, double the pleasure tonight." He bent his head and ran his lips and tongue along the side of her neck, delicately playing with the sensitive skin just under her ear. She gasped.

Trapped between the two men, their relentless hands and mouths stroking her everywhere they could reach, she settled for glaring at the one in front of her. Something hard pressed into the small of her back, and she found herself blushing furiously.

"It's just me," he reassured her one more time. "I promise. I simply thought it might be… entertaining to try something a little bit different tonight. Come now," he wheedled. "You had fun the last time I suggested something… adventurous… didn't you?" With a teasing smile on his lips, he walked the fingers of one hand up the inside of her thigh.

With a sharp intake of breath at the tingling sensation that exploded through her body, she slapped his hand away. "What are you doing?" She stared at him, suddenly confused. "The last time…?" Her mind would not come clear.

Part of her seemed to be urging her to simply submit, to obey this man who had the power of a god, who moved worlds at his whim, in whose hands lay the lives of every one of her friends, every one she had ever cared about… but another part of her was fighting, fighting what must surely be false memories, memories of what appeared to be a life at the side of this man…

"Mmmm," was his only response as he leaned forward and took her lips in his. He kissed her slowly, luxuriously, and possessively, taking the sweetness of her mouth for his own as though it was his right to seize any pleasure he wished from her.

Her head spun, still confused as though she had drunk too much wine, too overwhelmed with sensation as conflicting memories spun within her brain (had she ever kissed anyone before? surely she had… or?), her mind hazed with an odd hot exciting tingling that spread through every part of her body; his lips were strong and demanding but unbelievably gentle, and gradually she relaxed under his ministrations, sighing and tentatively returning his kiss. Her mouth was sweet and warm and soft and innocent, and he explored her thoroughly as she quivered beneath him, trapped in place by the man behind her now stroking the soft swell of her breast.

After a long, long while he released her. Turning, he lay upon the silken covers with an amused half smile on his lips. Her hair was messy, what remained of her clothes disheveled, she was panting, and her face now appeared sleepy and faintly hungry, her lips swollen and half-parted as her eyes sought his.

"Come," he murmured. "It's too warm for you to be wearing all those clothes." Two sets of fingers brushed her bosom as they began to unbutton her blouse.

XxXxXxX

Three figures lay intertwined in the expanse of bedding. The fire had burned low, and the glow of its embers reflected off the high, white, domed ceiling. Orihime sat up, her mind still hazy. One of the men beside her stirred, and for an instant, a smile of contentment tugged at her mouth. Then she caught her breath. What was going on? She turned to gape at the man at her side, her eyes taking in the outline of his body beneath the sheet, his tousled brown hair, the lazy smirk of fulfillment on his face.

Then her vision blurred, and suddenly, he was on his feet in front of her, fully dressed. Her eyes widened. She was no longer in the bedroom. Aizen loomed over her, holding his zanpakutou point down.

"Shatter, Kyouka Suigetsu."

And with the words her mind abruptly cleared. What she had thought were memories faded away, and she stared at him. He stood before her, his expression serene, and behind him she saw another man, the identical image of himself, sleeping peacefully on the white couch beyond, fully dressed. She looked down at herself. She was still wearing her schoolgirl uniform, every button fastened, every ribbon tightly tied, her shoes and stockings still neatly arrayed.

"What happened?" She wanted to call back the words the moment she had said them. Surely the Lord of Las Noches would never deign to answer her.

But to her surprise, he spoke. "What you remember of my arrival is true. I am from the future, and I came to rendezvous with my younger self as well as pass him certain critical information." He glanced over his shoulder briefly and a smile flitted across his lips. "It is important not to trust anyone, even oneself," he remarked. "He dropped his guard for a moment. And while he was distracted, I invoked Kyouka Suigetsu. You have both been under my illusions for some time."

Orihime shook her head. "But… why?"

He gave a brief laugh. "I promise to explain it all one day. But for now… all I have to say is that you can be reassured that your virginity is still intact... at present." He stepped closer, his eyes intent on her. "After all, I am not the kind of man who has to use hypnosis to lure a woman into his bed."

Orihime blushed.

"Besides, such an occasion is a very special thing, and when it happens, I will make sure it is something you remember for the rest of your life."

She shook her head again. "I still don't understand."

His eyes became distant. "You will one day. First, however, there is something very urgent you must do. Many months from now, you will say out loud to your friends that you wish for peace amongst all the worlds. Your wish can come true, but only if you do exactly what I am about to tell you. Remember, your power is the only thing that can unmake the Hougyoku. If –" He stopped and looked searchingly at her, then laughed again. "If, for some reason, you find out that Sousuke Aizen has been imprisoned underneath Soul Society, you must go to them and say that you can destroy the Hougyoku by rejecting it so that it never existed. That will grant you access to my cell, as they will want the device removed from my body. Do you understand?" he said urgently.

She nodded slowly. "Yes… That is something only I can do," she murmured.

"Good." He turned away and walked slowly across the room, gazing down on the man lying on the other couch. "The time for my return draws near. When he wakes, the illusion will persist in his mind. For your own safety, as well as that of the three worlds, I suggest you do nothing to disabuse him of whatever notions he has. Obey his commands, comply with any of his whims, swear loyalty to him – whatever it takes. Do you understand? He is dangerous to you now."

Orihime gaped. "But why are you doing this? Aren't you dangerous to me as well?"

He ignored her questions. "Oh, and make sure you change into this outfit immediately." He gestured toward a white dress hanging at the side of the room. "This is your Hueco Mundo uniform. It will make him think that you have completely submitted to him. Wear it without question."

He pushed the outfit into her hands, and she took it, clutching the hanger with a bewildered expression. "I still don't get it," she insisted. "You have to tell me why."

He looked amused. "I don't have to tell you anything. It's not healthy to know too much about the future, especially your own." He lifted his head. "Ah. It is time. Goodbye, Orihime. Until we meet again."

She sensed an onrushing flow of energy building up in the room. "Wait!" she cried. "You can't go without at least giving me a hint!"

His amusement intensified. "Very well. A hint it is then." He paced to the center of the room, where the energy flows were the most dense, and stood still, his expression intent as though he listened to some message she could not hear. He inclined his head at her with a faint smile. "Two truths and a lie. I leave you to guess which is which." He held up a finger. "One. You do end up my wife in the future."

A vortex of unimaginable energy swirled into existence, filling the room with its power, latching onto him and beginning to blur the edges of his body. His deep voice began to diminish, seeming to emanate from a great distance, even as his body began to shimmer and fade. He held up two translucent fingers. "Two. You will remember everything I said today."

Orihime took a step forward, holding out one hand as though she could somehow keep him from leaving, but he was becoming insubstantial, translucent, unreal. The rich brown of his hair and eyes was turning tissue-paper thin, his white robes barely a shadow.

He was disappearing, waning like the last streaks of moonlight as they went behind a cloud, a vague glowing outline surrounding his body as the energy field enveloped him. His voice dwindled, so faint and far away that she had to strain to hear the last words. "And… I love you."

~END~


	3. Birthday Surprise

**3.**

**Title: Birthday Surprise**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: **Orihime gets an unexpected surprise on her birthday. Written for Orihime's birthday September 2013. Fantasy/romance. This story won third place in the Orihime's Birthday Bash contest in the "OrihimeTheGreat" group on deviantArt.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

(Originally posted 4/12/14.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime shifted the bags and pile of boxes she was carrying to one arm and fished for her apartment key in her purse. Just as her fingers closed upon the familiar metal shape, she felt the boxes beginning to shift. As the tottering stack began to tip over, she made a wild grab for them which led to her losing her balance and finding herself smacking the floor hard as the boxes rained down around her.

Ruefully, she pulled out the key, got to her feet, and opened the door. Her apartment was dark and empty. She flicked on the light and turned back into the hall to begin gathering up the scattered packages. One by one, she brought them into the apartment, a small grin beginning to light up her face. It was so sweet of Tatsuki to plan a surprise birthday party for her. All her friends had been there: Ichigo, Uryuu, Chad, Chizuru, Keigo... so many others from school... And as a special treat, Rukia, Renji, Rangiku and a few other shinigami had even dropped by (even though most of the other guests couldn't see them, Urahara had created some sort of dimensional bubble so that they could fit in part of the room and participate in the party). It had been a lot of fun.

As she put her presents away in her closet, she was still grinning. She loved surprises. It was so thoughtful of all her friends to think of her on her special day.

But as she turned back to pick up the last box, her gaze fell upon Sora's altar, and she couldn't help but heave a small sigh. She couldn't help but feel a little let down that after all the noise and activity of the party, that she had to come back once again to her quiet and lonely apartment.

Resolutely, she firmed her lips and scolded herself. "Don't be so silly! You are so lucky to have so many friends." She forced herself to smile. "You love surprises, and you just got so much of everything you love today."

As she closed the closet door with a small click, a sudden breeze swept into her apartment and blew her hair to one side. She must have forgotten and left the window open, she thought, and then froze as a deep voice sounded behind her.

"Do you indeed love surprises, Orihime?"

She spun around in shock. No... that couldn't be the voice she thought she recognized. He was in prison, locked away for 20,000 years.

But as she stared, her eyes focused in terror on the garganta in the corner of her living room, a tall man in white exited and approached her slowly.

"Surprised to see me?" His voice rolled over her, as rich and seductive as she remembered. Deep brown eyes beneath slanted brows gazed at her under that shock of thick brown hair. He was wearing his white Arrancar uniform again, just as she had seen him years ago when he threatened to destroy her hometown.

She backed away slowly, her own eyes wide. "No…" she whispered. "How could you get out of prison? They told me..."

Amusement filled his dark eyes. "Come now. Did you truly believe that any prison could hold me for long?"

He continued to approach her until she was backed against the wall, her head tilted back, her eyes locked on his.

He smiled, and reached out with one hand to touch her cheek gently. "Orihime. My apologies for taking your memories of me when I released you... but I thought they would serve you ill in the event I was unable to return to you right away."

She shook her head, trembling. "What do you mean, Aizen... sama?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

"I mean," he said, stepping even closer, "this." His thumb caressed her lips. "I could return your memories with a touch of my hand, but the channel is more effective with a more intimate touch." He began to lower his face to hers.

She was shaking uncontrollably now. "What are you saying? I don't understand."

His breath brushed her ear. "Why, my dear, how do you think your friends and Soul Society would have treated you if they knew what truly happened to you in Las Noches? Do you think you could have hidden that you and I were... lovers?"

Her eyes were riveted to his now. "Wha–"

But before she could continue, his lips had found hers. Warm and soft and caressing at first, then hard and demanding. At first, all she could feel was sensation, a tingling that spread from her mouth straight down to her toes. And then, along with it, as though awakening from a dream, came the memories.

Memories of days and nights, days of mingled terror and excitement, and nights of unimagined pleasure. Her knees buckled, but strong arms held her and swept her up. She was cradled in his arms, and somehow, she no longer wished to fight as the memories overwhelmed her.

He was smiling at her, warmly, from only inches away. "My dear Orihime. Do you remember now? I promised I would surprise you on your birthday." He glanced around at her apartment with a slight look of disdain. "You are meant for better than this." His lips brushed her forehead as she continued to tremble. "Come. I will treat you to a divine birthday dinner," he murmured, amusement flickering in his glance, "and then a night beyond imagining."

She looked up at him, terrified and thrilled, and then, almost beside her will, her chin dipped in a miniscule nod.

He smiled again, with all the old confidence and arrogance that she once again remembered.

Sighing, she tightened her arms around him and rested her cheek on his chest as he turned to stride through the garganta.

~END~

**A/N:** Please leave a brief review if you have a moment.


	4. The Hitchhiker Ch 1

**4.**

**Title: **The Hitchhiker – Chap. 1****

**Rating: T**

**Summary: **Orihime and Rangiku are poor millworkers from New York on a wild Florida vacation. The trip takes an unexpected and ominous turn when they pick up a handsome hitchhiker. What devious plans does Aizen have for the two young women? AU, early sixties United States.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

(Originally posted 6/15/2014.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime grinned at her friend as the wind whipped her hair around her head, lashing her face with long sharp strands. Rangiku settled back against the leather upholstery, one well-manicured hand on the sleek steering wheel of the fire-engine red convertible, the other arm stretched out along the back of the seat. She accelerated smoothly and they merged onto the highway.

"This is the life, isn't it, Orihime?" she shouted over the rush of the wind.

Orihime tilted her head up to the sun. "Yes, this is so much fun! I'm glad you talked me into it, Rangiku."

They had saved all year for this trip. They had been friends for many years, since they both left their boring small-town childhoods for adventure in the big city, only to find that the city was grimy and crowded and just as boring when the only job you could get was in a textile factory. They both sat at their machines for long hours, the monotonous hum and clatter filling their ears and lives. There was no time for all the dreams they had once had, for their hopes for a brilliant future; there were only long hours of mind-numbingly boring work. Orihime escaped from it by weaving elaborate fantasies in her head, visions of multiple lifetimes, working as an astronaut, running a bakery.

Rangiku escaped by getting drunk every night.

There was precious little money left after they had paid the rent and utilities on their tiny, dark apartment, bought food and clothing. But last winter, Rangiku had had the idea, the dream of a magnificent vacation someplace warm and sunny, far from the cold wind that chapped their cheeks as they hurried to work along the dark streets mottled with black ice and gray snow.

And so they had pooled their funds, eking out a dollar here and there to place in their vacation account.

Now at last they were there. They had taken the bus to this gloriously warm southern city in the sun, rented a red convertible, and dressed up in their finery. Now they had a week to live like queens, basking in luxury and indulging themselves with spa treatments at impossibly luxurious hotels. Orihime gave Rangiku a wide grin. She had been hesitant at first about blowing so much of their savings on something as ephemeral as a vacation, but Rangiku had eventually persuaded her. Actually, Orihime hoped that it might stop Rangiku from drinking so much if she had something wild and bright to look forward to in their gray lives. She was worried about her friend, the gradual proliferation of bottles clinking in their recycling can, Rangiku's increasingly puffy eyelids and the bags under her eyes, the coarsening and reddening of her cheeks.

Unfortunately, Rangiku couldn't seem to shake the habit, even here on vacation. However, Orihime had been able to persuade her to stop after a single shot of whiskey this morning. As a result, her driving was steady as they accelerated smoothly onto the highway.

They hadn't been driving for longer than an hour when Rangiku said she needed a rest stop. They exited the highway, used the facilities, and soon were bumping along the frontage road back to the expressway.

Just before the entrance to the on-ramp, a tall brown-haired man in a white shirt and black slacks stood beside a canvas bag, one thumb lazily raised. Rangiku screeched to a halt.

"What are you doing?" Orihime hissed. "You can't pick up a hitchhiker! They're dangerous—didn't your mother teach you anything?"

The man had scooped up his bag and was loping toward their car. "Ah, look how handsome he is, Orihime! And well-dressed—he can't be a criminal or ruffian in that outfit," Rangiku called over her shoulder. She dropped her voice. "Come on, don't be a spoilsport. Let's have a little fun, okay?"

Orihime shook her head, a small furrow appearing in her forehead. "I still don't think this is a good idea," she demurred.

But the man had already reached them. Up close, she could see that he was indeed extremely handsome, with a refined, aristocratic face, clear skin, slanted dark eyebrows framing huge deep brown eyes. His elegant, long-fingered hand rested idly on the passenger side door as he smiled at Rangiku. "Thank you very much," he said in a deep, polite voice. "I truly appreciate the ride."

"Come on, Orihime," Rangiku urged her. "Why don't you get out and let Mr.—ah," she glanced inquiringly at the man who was now smiling benignly at both of them.

"Aizen. Sousuke Aizen," he returned in that impossibly deep voice, and as Orihime opened the door, she saw on Rangiku's face the slightly glazed look that indicated that she was smitten.

"Mr. Aizen, then, sit in the middle, next to me," Rangiku said with a dazzling smile, patting the leather upholstery beside her.

The man, with a soft, apologetic glance at Orihime, turned to give Rangiku a charming smile.

Resigned, Orihime slid in beside him. Rangiku gunned the engine and they were off in a spray and clatter of gravel.

"Pleased to meet you two lovely ladies," the man – Aizen – said, bestowing a charming smile upon Rangiku and turning his head to include Orihime in his largesse. The wind tousled his hair and blew a long, wavy strand of it across his face. "May I ask what brings you to this part of the state?"

Rangiku grinned. "Ohhh, we were just bored at home in Manhattan so I asked daddy for some pin money to take a little vacation." She fluffed her hair and gestured at the car. "I know it's a step down from the Jag or the Rolls, but hey, nothing like red and screaming to let everyone know we're in town."

Orihime rolled her eyes. Was Rangiku actually trying to impress this hitchhiker with some lie about being rich? She must have really gone around the bend. Still, Orihime was loyal to her friend, and so she said nothing.

Aizen laughed. "Indeed. It's certainly dramatic."

Rangiku batted her eyelashes at the man. "And you, sir? What line of work are you in?"

"When I tell you, you'll wonder what I was doing hitchhiking by the side of the road." There was a note of apology and embarrassment in his voice. He turned one hand palm up and Orihime noticed how smooth and unlined his skin was.

Rangiku tipped her head and the wind splayed her hair so that it snapped in the wind like a golden flag. "Now you're making me curious."

"I'm a stockbroker. I'm traveling to a convention, but unfortunately I had just pulled over to this rest stop when I was ambushed by a hoodlum with a gun who demanded my car and drove off with it."

"What?" Rangiku's voice was shocked. "Where were the police?"

He gave a rueful chuckle. "My thoughts exactly. It's been over an hour since I used the emergency phone box to ask for help. They said they would send an officer over right away." He shook his head. "I had just about resigned myself to spending the entire day at that dingy rest stop when you two beautiful ladies drove by. I could see right away that you had good, kind hearts and would doubtless take pity on a stranded traveler such as I."

Rangiku was already staring at him with a gleam in her eye. "See, Orihime," she crowed. "I told you he wasn't a common hitchhiker." Turning back to Aizen, she announced, "My friend was suspicious of you and didn't want to pick you up."

Orihime sighed. "Oh, Rangiku."

"But I knew right away that you were special," Rangiku proclaimed.

The man turned his head to give Orihime a reproachful, puppy dog glance. Then he smiled winningly. "I hope to earn your trust as well, my dear young lady."

Orihime blushed, a little embarrassed. But underneath she was still suspicious. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something seemed a little off about Aizen's story. Of course, given that Rangiku was feeding him a blatant lie, it seemed somewhat hypocritical for her to have any suspicions at all. She sighed and leaned back in the seat, returning Aizen's smile with a friendly one of her own.

She could not help noticing that Aizen's leg was pressed up against her bare thigh, the sun warming his elegant, no doubt expensive black slacks. It would surely be impolite to pull away, so she sat stiffly and tried to pretend that she didn't notice that she was squeezed up against a handsome but potentially dangerous stranger.

Rangiku had produced a bottle of whiskey and waved it at Aizen. "Hey, wanna have some?" she offered. "Hime, you got a glass for our guest, don't you?"

"Isn't there an open container law in Florida?" Orihime began, a line appearing in the center of her forehead.

"Aw, Hime, where's your sense of fun?" She pouted and took a swig straight from the mouth of the bottle. "Ah, that's better!"

Orihime looked at Aizen to see how he would take this behavior. Surely a gentleman would find it uncouth.

But Aizen only smiled. He produced a handkerchief, wiped the mouth of the bottle, poured two fingers into the glass Orihime handed him, and took a sip before politely handing the glass to her. She found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his full, lush lips and the glimpse of his tongue as he licked a drop of liquid off his upper lip. Suspicious he may be, but he was certainly ungodly handsome. She pinched herself to stop herself from thinking inappropriate thoughts. She needed to keep her guard up, especially if Rangiku was going to start drinking this early in the day.

Rangiku snatched the glass out of Orihime's hand, tossed it down her throat, and punched the accelerator.

XxXxXxX

**A/N: **This story is being rewritten as a standalone multi-chapter story titled _The Galilee Hitchhiker. _Please check it out on my profile.

And please do let me know what you think with a review here first!


	5. Teacher and Student

**5.**

**Title:** Teacher and Student

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** AU idea involving Orihime as a freshman on a college campus and Aizen as her English professor.

**Warnings:** None.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**Posting Date:** 8/16/14

XxXxXxX

"Don't do it. He's dangerous."

With a little gasp, Orihime tore herself out of her daydream and stared at the speaker, a slight brunette with two high ponytails and a ferocious magenta-eyed glare. The girl was leaning both arms on the café table across from Orihime, apparently unaware that her fury was vibrating the tabletop so hard that liquid was slopping out of her teacup.

"Wha- what do you mean?" Orihime stammered, blushing at her own obvious attempt at dissimulation. She had been staring all too intensely at a tall, brown-haired man striding confidently across the quad, his long, lean limbs flashing under the brilliant autumn sunlight.

The girl rolled her eyes and scoffed. "You're looking at him the way all the silly freshman girls do – right before he lures them into his bed." As Orihime's eyes widened, she laughed scornfully. "Did you really think you were the only one?"

"No, I –"

The brunette leaned forward and her cleavage deepened above her low-cut white tank top. "Let me guess. He asked you to come to his office to discuss your paper. When you did, he took his glasses off, fixed you with those enormous brown eyes and told you how sensitive and intelligent your writing was, how it was clear that you could truly understand loneliness." Her voice dripped scorn. "Then his hand ever so lightly brushed your arm as he leaned over you to make a point, and you smelled his masculine scent…" The girl's breathing had accelerated and her pupils had dilated.

"Actually," Orihime admitted, "he told me I analyzed poetry like an engineer." She blushed again at the embarrassing memory, at the sea of red marks on the essay she had been so proud of. "When I told him I _was_ an engineering major, he said that I needed to learn to put my heart in my writing."

The girl jerked back, her mouth open in mid-sentence. Then she took a sharp breath and lowered her eyebrows. "Just watch out. Sousuke Aizen cares for nothing and no one but himself. He'll use you for his own pleasure and then cast you aside." She stood up, black ponytails quivering. "He doesn't have a shred of morality. He uses that gorgeous body like a weapon, a weapon to get what he wants. And after he's through, he'll stab you through the heart with a calm smile." She stopped, panting, and inhaled briskly as though she were going to say something more, but then clapped her mouth shut. She spun and flounced out of the café, her rear end swinging in short, angry arcs beneath a tight-fitting short white skirt.

Orihime stared after her, her heart still pounding at the suddenness and violence of the encounter.

Was any of the warning true? Her professor had seemed so kind and helpful, innocuous, even. Orihime had been quite certain that the man would be too proper to ever return Orihime's clearly unrequited crush.

Perhaps the girl was imbalanced, insanely jealous, and she was making it all up.

She stared in the direction Aizen had disappeared. Yes, that must be it. How could a man as gentle and kind in appearance be as dangerous as the woman claimed?

Slowly, Orihime gathered up her books and left the café, not noticing the silent watcher in the corner of the restaurant, sipping tea with an amused expression.

XxXxXxX

**A/N:** What do you think? Might this be an interesting beginning to a story? Who could the watcher be?


End file.
